


Reassurance

by peaches854



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: chubwinchesters, Dominant/Top Sam, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Submissive/Bottom Dean, chubby!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaches854/pseuds/peaches854
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been piling on the pounds lately, and isn't too happy about it, as girls keep turning him down.<br/>Sam shows him how gorgeous he thinks he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> Do comment if you like it!

Sam didn’t catch on to what was happening immediately, and when he did, he simply put it down to the stressfulness of the previous case. It had been demanding for both of them, spending days trying to track down the Shtriga that had been terrorizing the city of Butler, Pennsylvania. She had driven dozens of infants to their deathbeds, and once she’d exhausted the kids, she started preying on adults, leaving half of Butler to become a ghost town. It had taken them a good three weeks before they could find her and put an end to her life.

So, yes. Tough case.

For a few days, everything seemed normal to Sam- Dean had gone back to his usual smartass self, cocksure and crude. What he hadn’t noticed, though, was that Dean had been eating a _lot_ more than normal- eating as many as three cheeseburgers in one sitting, and then topping everything off with Cherry or Key Lime pie.

For a while, he didn’t say anything, but then he started noticing the changes in Dean.

Dean was still unselfconscious enough to change in front of Sam, and when he pulled off his shirt, he noticed that the hard muscles of Dean’s chest had become less defined. Dean’s sharp jawline became softer, the contours of it slightly fleshy. He didn’t think anything of it- Dean’s way of relaxation was to eat his heart out, and Sam wouldn’t interfere.

As days passed by, things became more obvious- the buttons on Dean’s shirts started straining, and the zipper on his jeans wouldn’t go all the way up, pale, doughy flesh obstructing its way.

Every time he would bend to take something out from the trunk of the Impala, or whenever he’d walk, his normally firm butt would have a jiggle to it.

Surprisingly enough, Sam liked it.

 

* * *

 

Dean, as was expected, refused to talk about it. Whenever Sam would bring up the subject of going shopping for new clothes, he’d refuse point-blank. Whenever Sam would tell him to eat some more, though, he’d go on the defensive and ask if Sam thought he was fat. So he had realized that he was putting on weight, he just refused to accept it.

 

* * *

 

Dean was being a lot more careful about what he ate nowadays, going with leafy green salads as opposed to pizza, water or juice instead of coffee or a milkshake. Sam didn’t like _that_ so much.

So he made it his personal mission to fatten Dean up as much as possible.

He always ordered too much food, and gave most of it to Dean, who took it happily without suspecting a thing. His plan worked.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s toned body had long since been replace by a fleshier version, love handles on his hips and layers of fat over his muscles.

His butt actually _bounced_ when he sauntered, and so Sam always walked behind him, never one for giving up the chance to look at pretty sights that were as tempting as Dean.  

 

* * *

 

The first time it happened was at Denny’s Diner, when Dean flirted with the tiny, curvy Latina in a tight uniform and five inch heels who was their waitress for the night.

He smirked at her and flirted incessantly, but to his surprise, she threw him a look of disgust and walked away, muttering to herself in a thick accent about how all men were absolute pigs.

Dean looked at Sam shocked, eyes blown wide and lips parted in astonishment, clearly shaken by what had just happened. Alas, there was nothing else that Sam could do but look helplessly back at Dean and curse at the stupid woman in his head for turning Dean down.

 

* * *

 

 

The second time it happened, they were at a bar, Dean drinking Jack Daniels and Sam, a gin and tonic. A pretty, if slutty redhead was serving them, walking around in a blouse that if, was cut any lower, would probably have shown them some nipple, and a skirt that barely came to the bottom of the swell of her butt. Dean tried out another one of his lame lines (“Did you ever realize that screw rhymes with me and you?”), charming grin in place- and she almost spat at him, saying, “I’d rather cut my arm off than sleep with you,” and walked away, hips swaying in a practiced way that only a few, slutty women could achieve.

This time, Dean looked sad, like he doubted his ability to score with hot chicks now, and Sam felt like going and cutting the little whore’s arm off himself.

 

* * *

 

The third time it happened, Sam almost couldn’t watch it.

Dean had picked a killer of a girl this time, a leggy blond with legs up to her ears, and unsurprisingly, she turned him down too. Dean decided to wallow in self-pity by eating two blueberry pies, and getting drunk off his ass.

When they went back to the motel, Sam had to carry Dean bridal-style into their room, earning dirty looks from lots of people who had totally different ideas about what was happening.

As he lowered Dean onto the bed, Dean said, looking and sounding hopelessly lost and unbelievably small, “Do I not look good anymore, Sammy? Is that why nobody w-wants me?”

Sam felt a major pang of pity and sympathy, and holding Dean’s hand, he’d said, “Of course not, Dean. You’re still beautiful. They don’t see it, so they don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Dean smiled through his tears, saying, “Thank you, Sammy,” and rubbed his cheek against Sam’s hand, and oh, if only he knew how much Sam really meant that.

 

* * *

 

In Fairfield, Iowa, Sam had come back to their tacky room in another one of those cheap motels that dotted the roadsides of America, to find Dean absolutely naked, standing in front of the mirror, examining his body from various angles.

Sam was only then fully able to catalogue the changes in him.

His skin was doughy all over, no trace of the slim form left any longer, and when Dean turned to look at his backside, Sam almost _fainted_ , because Dean’s butt was right there.

It had grown more padded, definitely, plumper and oh-so-luscious, like a ripe peach just begging to be tasted.

And Sam did taste.

He dropped the groceries he was carrying with a _thud_   at the doorway, the sound startling Dean into turning around.

Before he could voice the protest that Sam knew was coming, he said, “Hush, Dean, let me just- turn around- yeah, like that- oh fuck yes, baby.”

Dean complied, if somewhat grudgingly, resting his arms on the dresser and thrusting his butt out.

Sam ran his hands all over the soft skin, marveling at how it gave way easily under his fingers, running his fingers along Dean’s perineum and the crack of his ass before bending down to lick his hole.

Dean gasped, quickly following it with a moan, pushing back against Sam’s tongue, pleading for more. Same licked into him, tasted his dark, musky flavor, and inserting two fingers alongside his tongue.

Dean groaned, letting out a stream of profanities as he, simultaneously, cried out Sam’s name in between.

Sam slid his digits out of Dean’s butt, hitting it once, watching the red handprint appear on the pale flesh of his ass, and spun Dean around, kissing him hard and deep like he really meant it.

When he pulled away, Dean was breathless, but immediately opened his mouth to accommodate Sam’s fingers when they pressed against his full lips, sucking the taste of himself off the digits.

Once Sam’s fingers were dripping wet, he inserted three into Dean’s hole, only preparing him perfunctorily, and he pulled them out soon enough, Dean whining at the loss of them.

Sam quickly slid into Dean, though, and the whines became high, breathy moans and whimpers, which then gave way to low groans and almost-growls. Sam let Dean get accustomed to the length of his cock, chuckling when Dean pushed back, begging for more.

“Pushy bottom,” he said, even as he slowly started thrusting into him, amazed at how Dean was so velvety-tight around him, watching the jiggle of the flesh of his butt where it was pressed against Sam’s crotch, and placing his hands on Dean’s padded hips to thrust deeper inside him.

It was only a matter of time before he exploded because Dean’s channel got almost excruciatingly tight around him as the older man came all over his hand.

“So beautiful,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, “So good for me, baby. Fucking perfect just the way you are,” causing Dean to blush redder than the local fire truck.

They made love after that, twice, thrice, and lost count, gentle, slow, sweet passion, and finally Sam had Dean convinced that no matter what other’s thought, he would always love Dean because Dean was amazing, and Dean was his.

That night, Dean went to sleep with Sam’s muscular arm wrapped tight around his waist, his chin resting on Sam’s broad shoulder, and a smile on his full lips.

  


 

 


End file.
